


Too Far (one hour is too long)

by FloingMachines



Category: Florence + the Machine
Genre: F/F, It's bad, This is just smut, i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 16:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloingMachines/pseuds/FloingMachines
Summary: Isa is tired of waitingAKA Isa buys a plane ticket spur of the moment to surprise FlorenceThis is just trash





	Too Far (one hour is too long)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm trash, I thought of this, and I regret nothing.  
> Oddly enough I listened to the main waltz from Swan Lake on repeat while writing this.

            It’s a very long flight from LA to London. It’s about ten hours and thirty minutes to be exact, ten hours and thirty some minutes too long for Isabella to wait. For the first four hours she was working, her computer was open and she was attending to different emails and consultations with different DJs pursuing her help. Only two or three of the five she was currently talking to showed any real promise or drive, and she knew she’d be playing phone tag with the others.

            Three different sound mixes were minimized files on her computer, a plane schedule and the site that she printed her ticket from were tabs in her web browser, and her tax report was saved to her desktop. One of the people who were consulting her had sent her another file and she was about to open it when suddenly the computer screen went black.

            “No!” She hissed, rapidly pressing the power button. The battery had died. “No, damn it!”

            She groaned in frustration and threw her head back against the headrest of the seat. A stuffy businessman glanced at her in annoyance and she shot him a withering glare. She had planned to spend the flight doing work to distract herself, but that was clearly no longer an option.

            The worst part of this was that Florence had no idea that she was coming to London. It was a surprise visit, she had spur of the moment booked the flight because all she wanted was to see her. Skyping was great, but she was sure that the time difference was starting to kill her.

            She pulled her earbuds out of her computer and then plugged them into her phone and then played some of the music on her phone. She could’ve pulled out a couple of the books she packed, she could try to sleep, or she could play for the crappy in-flight WiFi and text Florence.

            The only problem was that she had no idea what time it was in London, she was over the East Coast of the United States so it was probably pretty late. There was no way that Florence would answer, but she paid for the WiFi anyways and watching some shows on Netflix.

            It was halfway through her third episode of Breaking Bad when she fell asleep, her phone falling in her lap and her head lolling forward. She woke up about an hour and a half later when some turbulence over the Atlantic woke her up. She mumbled gently before opening her eyes and slowly peeled her eyelashes off of each other.

            She clicked her phone on and saw one missed text from Florence from ten minutes ago. She smiled and unlocked her phone, reading Florence’s texts.

**Florence: You awake, Isa?**

**Isabella: Why would you ask?**

**Florence: In the ‘recently watched’ of our Netflix Breaking Bad is ahead three episodes.**

**Isabella: I was awake, but I fell asleep watching it.**

**Florence: Are you awake now**

**Isabella: I am**

            Isa bit her lip and looked at the time. She had about an hour and a half before the plane touched down and she could catch a cab to Florence’s flat. Her leg bounced nervously at the thought of finally getting to see her girlfriend after five months apart.

**Isabella: What time is it in London again?**

**Florence: Almost noon**

**Florence: Why?**

**Isabella: What are you doing right now?**

**Florence: Making tea and sitting out back**

**Isabella: What would you do if I was there?**

It took a while for Florence to respond and Isa bit her lip nervously, wondering if she had pushed too far.

**Florence: Well I don’t think I’d be outside**

**Isabella: Why not?**

**Florence: I’d have other plans for you if you were here**

**Isabella: Do elaborate**

            Oh, she was playing with fire. She was on a plane, in between two stuffy businessmen, and it was such a bad idea. She was fully aware of the consequences of her actions, and she didn’t care as she watched Florence type from her end of the line.

**Florence: Or you could use your imagination**

**Isabella: Or I could not**

            Admittedly, there was something insanely hot about Florence telling her to use her imagination, the allure of an unanswered question, but damn it if she didn’t want to hear Florence say it. For that, she’d have to wait. Again, she was in no position to call at the moment.

**Florence: I could tell you later tonight**

**Florence: Good things come to those who wait**

**Isabella: What if I don’t want to wait**

**Florence: What if I were to tell you that you have to**

**Isabella: Then that would be torture**

            She didn’t want to admit that she already had her legs crossed uncomfortably to stop the heat that was building there. Florence was teasing her, she was a mile into the sky, and yet the redhead still had this insane effect on her. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, threatening to draw blood.

**Florence: How many months have you been away?**

**Isabella: Six**

**Florence: How many days is that?**

**Isabella: About 180**

**Florence: Divide it by 10**

**Isabella: 18**

**Florence: How many times I’d want to make you come in one day**

            _Jesus Christ._ Isa let her eyes close and her hand dig into the fabric of her jeans. Her hands were shaking as she typed out a reply.

**Isabella: That’s a tall promise**

**Florence: I’m a tall woman**

**Isabella: You’re a dork**

**Florence: You should call me when you get the chance :p**

**Isabella: I will :p**

            Truthfully, Isa would not call her when she got the chance, she’d show up at her flat with her carry-on bag and her backpack and now she was imagining things she shouldn’t be on an airplane but _god_ Florence Welch was going to be the death of her and she was entirely okay with that.

            The flight couldn’t end soon enough, she couldn’t run off the plane fast enough and dial the cab as she was running towards customs. She rushed through customs, signing the forms haphazardly before waiting outside the terminal for her cab to show up.

            The cab ride was short, which was good for her. He pulled up to Florence’s apartment, a brick building covered in flowering vines, and Isa was sure she overpaid him by a lot when she rushed out of the cab and fumbled with her set of keys to Florence’s apartment.

            The door finally clicked open and she let herself in, dropping her two bags next to the door. Missus was curled up on the couch in between stacks of books and sat up, suddenly alert when she walked by. She walked carefully through the house, stepping around books and papers and trinkets until she reached the back door. She opened the screen door leading to the garden and stepped out onto the patio.

            The overgrown garden had a sense of romanticism to it. The vines and large rose bushes were flowering. The assorted stone statues didn’t match at all, but fit the aesthetic of the garden as the drizzly London skies presided overhead.

            She wandered through the maze of the bushes to the back where behind the tangle of leaves, she saw Florence sitting on a stone bench with a cup of tea next to her, reading a book. She paused for a moment to admire her natural beauty, the way her hair spilled down her face, and her sharp and defined silhouette.

            She stepped through the arch of bushes and stood quietly for a moment.

            “Hi.”

            Florence looked up, momentarily startled before smiling and standing up. “What are you doing here?” She asked, pulling Isa into a hug.

            Isa reached her hand up to Florence’s face and kissed her gently. “I couldn’t stand being in LA any longer.” She answered.

            “When did you find time to text me?”

            “I bought the crappy in-flight WiFi.”

            “So you lied about Breaking Bad?”

            “No, I was actually watching Breaking Bad on the plane and I did fall asleep watching it.”

            Florence laughed. “I’m guessing you were bored on the plane.”

            “Whatever would make you think that?”

            “Hm, I don’t know.” Florence said with a fake innocence resting on her voice. “You should come inside.”

            Florence picked up her book and her tea and Isa followed her inside and shut the door behind them, shutting out the damp London afternoon.

            Isa walked out of the kitchen and towards the front of the room and started rummaging through her bags when Florence walked up behind her and wrapped her arms around the smaller woman. Isa shuddered at the contact and at the way Florence kissed the space just below her ear.

            “I think I told you something on the plane.” Florence whispered, her voice low.

            “Yeah, eighteen is a large number.”

            “Is that a challenge?”

            “Maybe.”

            “Hm.”

            Isa let her eyes close and she let out a breath of air as she felt the tips of Florence’s long fingers playing with the waistband of her jeans. Her other hand was under her shirt now and Isa swore her legs were about to give out in Florence’s embrace.

            “Take your time.” Isa gritted out sarcastically.

            “We’re in no rush.”

            “Maybe _you’re_ not, but I was sitting on that plane for an hour and a half.”

            “An hour and a half? Poor you.” Florence whispered.

            Isa swore under her breath as Florence unbuttoned her jeans with her one hand.

            “Yes?” Florence asked softly.

            “Yes and then we’re going upstairs.” Isa gasped.

            Florence’s hand was skimming her underwear now and she swore she was going to explode. The airplane had been torture, just waiting. Forget the airplane, the past six months had been torturous, the huge time change, their forever clashing schedules, she was done waiting.

            She came undone with Florence’s name on her lips like a prayer and as she caught her breath and turned around and kissed the tall redhead again.

            “I missed you.” Isa said, laughing slightly. “Upstairs, now.”

**Author's Note:**

> There is not a single semicolon in this entire fic. This may be because I'm an unskilled writer who has no idea what the hell a semicolon is. Or it could be something more.  
> You can find me at machinerisms.tumblr.com  
> 6765


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